


Rough

by Hoodoo



Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Aftercare, Biting, Choking, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hair-pulling, Name-Calling, Physical Handling, Sexual Violence, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23116033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/pseuds/Hoodoo
Summary: Rough, physical adult times with Beej? You got it.
Relationships: Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice)/Reader, Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice)/You
Comments: 20
Kudos: 112





	Rough

You were pushed forward, hitting the wall with no little force. Your breath popped from you as caught yourself with outstretched arms, but when his weight slammed into you, your elbows buckled and you went completely flat against it. The tiny amount of air at the bottom of your lungs left you with an, 

“Oof!”'

Beetlejuice’s fingers shoved into your hair, to your scalp, twisting as they went. He yanked your head back so your neck was bent at an awkward and slightly painful angle.

“You better not’ve worn panties tonight,” he warned next to your ear. 

His voice, rough like burlap, tickled you but not in a good way. As a matter of fact, you felt a rush of cold through you; you’d forgotten his preference, and had worn panties. Nice ones, too, that fit just right and were pretty, with a little bit of soft stretchy lace. It didn’t matter how comfortable they were now; Beetlejuice was going to destroy them once he realized you had them on.

Even as the thoughts ricocheted through your head, he’d kicked your ankles to spread your legs apart and one heavy, questing hand dug under your skirt. His cold fingers went straight to your ass and found it covered in fabric, and you didn’t need to be facing him to know the expression on his face had twisted into something ugly. 

“What did I tell you?!” he hissed in your ear. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you babbled, not that an apology was going to make a difference. 

He snarled wordlessly, a sound that was so angry it made you flinch.

Your flinch spurred him to greater anger; it was almost a physical force. His hand didn’t release your hair, he used it like a handle to twist your head to one side. As you were taller than him, even angled against a wall, you felt the cold moist touch of what passed as his breath on the delicate skin of the now exposed nape of your neck, but instead of the press of his lips or the touch of his tongue, the next thing you felt were his teeth latching onto you. 

Beetlejuice bit down, mindless of your sharp yelp of pain and surprise. The pain he inflicted was quickly numb, telling you he’d bitten hard enough to bruise. You couldn’t stop the tears that flooded you, and you couldn’t stop an attempt to pull away. 

He growled at your efforts and pushed you more tightly to the wall, using his weight to keep you pinned. It was only when he was ready that he released you. 

The instant his mouth left you, you sobbed in relief, even as the area throbbed.

Ignoring whatever mark he’d given you, Beetlejuice went back to what had upset him in the first place: your panties. He tugged at them with impatient fingers, the smooth fabric snagging on his calluses and ragged fingernails. He found the elastic at the top of them and grabbed it, yanking it roughly over your ass to your upper thighs. 

You knew better than to offer to help.

With one hand, he pushed them down, then, frustrated that they were bunched between your legs, took a better grip of them and somehow managed–you weren’t exactly sure how, but he had control over the physical world to make it suit his needs–to tear them apart on one side, so the remaining bit of satin and lace was hooked only around one leg. Loosened, they finally dropped to your knee.

Although he now had what he wanted, Beetlejuice ignored your unclad pussy for the moment and the same hand went to your chest. Hooking his fingers in the neck of your shirt, he tore it apart as well, straight down between your tits. At least you’d had presence of mind not to wear a bra.

The side of his thumbnail scratched a line along your skin. It felt like fire. 

He still hadn’t released your hair. Your neck was still bent at a painful angle. He leaned against you once more as again his hand went under the fabric of your skirt, still bunched at your waist. 

“Look at you,” he admonished next to your ear. “Clothes torn off, frozen like a scared rabbit. Panting in fear. Or is it arousal? Are you turned on right now, little rabbit? Is your pussy getting wet for me?”

Your mouth was too dry to even attempt to answer him. 

He chuckled, an explosive sound close to your ear, and his fingers dragged along the folds of your pussy. Whatever he expected to feel, he didn’t say, but in the next moment his hand was in your face. 

“Lick my fingers!” he ordered.

Slowly, you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out to touch them. 

“I said fucking lick my fingers!” he barked again, and didn’t wait for you to try and follow the instruction again. He jammed three of his fingers into your mouth.

Like everything so far, there was no consideration. His digits pushed in heavily over your tongue, almost too deep, and involuntarily you gagged. Your response didn’t elicit any overt concern; Beetlejuice kept them there, even as your throat spasmed. At least your uncontrolled reaction did what he’d requested: your mouth flooded with saliva and coated his fingers.

He left them in place for several beats too long, just because he could. You managed to get your gag reflex back under control, but your eyes and nose started running. Just when you felt you were going to have to fight to get away, he wrenched his hand out of your mouth, leaving you gasping for air. 

Ignoring your gasping and that you wiped a forearm over your face, Beetlejuice took his dripping hand and shoved it, as you expected, against your pussy. 

Even being pawed at with no finesse, you groaned a little and arched your back to allow him more access. 

Beetlejuice chuffed a semi-laugh behind you. “Slut. You couldn’t wait for me to put something inside you, could you?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but he found your cunt and put two of his four fingers deep into it. You couldn’t help groaning. It felt like his second and third finger; as he thrust them in and out of you his first and pinkie finger slipped along outside your folds and occasionally met by your clit, squeezing the sensitive nub when he was deepest inside you. 

As rough as it was, you liked it. Pleasure sparked through you, building on itself. Beetlejuice was quiet for a moment, and you imagined he was watching his hand work into your pussy. You also imagined his free hand palming himself through his trousers or jerking himself off if he’d flicked them away without your knowledge. He grunted, but you couldn’t determine which scenario was happening. 

You also wondered for a second if you’d just feel cool, spectral jizz spurt over your ass and thighs.

That image made you shudder, and it wasn’t all in fear.

But it didn’t occur. Beetlejuice grunted again and yanked his hand out of your pussy, making you whine shamelessly at the loss. 

He laughed. “Little rabbit can’t get enough!”

If you expected him to suddenly be soft, you were mistaken. He slapped your ass once, twice; hard enough to make you jump and the area to ache a little, then followed it with a slap to your pussy, which made you squeal. 

“Stand up. This position isn’t doing it for me,” Beetlejuice ordered. 

You obeyed, and faced him. He was sucking the taste of you off his hand, making obscene noises with his mouth. 

“Fuck you’re delicious,” he praised. 

After making you stand there watching his tongue dart between his own fingers and knowing that you wished that he’d just do that to you between your legs, he finally appraised you up and down. He pushed your ruined shirt off your shoulders but let it hang there. Your skirt had dropped again, but he didn’t seem to care about that for the moment. 

“On second thought …” he mused, but didn’t continue. Instead, he popped the button on his fly, then looked up to see your eyes were riveted on what action his hands were involved in. “I should make you undo my pants with your teeth, rabbit. You’d have to be careful! I’m not wearing any underwear and if at any second I felt anything that might hurt–-”

Once again he didn’t complete his sentence, but you could fill in the blanks. 

He smirked. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like to be on your knees in front of me, your face pressed against my crotch, trying to grab my zipper tab with your tongue and teeth, and then unzipping my pants. You’d like to do that, releasing my cock till it slapped you in the face. Right, rabbit? My hard cock, falling out of my pants to hit you on the forehead and cheek?”

Unbidden, your tongue wet your lower lip.

Beetlejuice stroked his length through the fabric of his trousers. “Your slutty mouth is good. I’d love to make you gag on my cock, ruin your mascara. Come down your throat till you gag.”

Heat blossomed in your gut. You would be okay with that too, truthfully.

His hand hadn’t stopped squeezing and pressing on the bulge behind his zipper. “That’d be nice, little rabbit.”

Your knees buckled and you started to kneel, just as he’d mentioned. You still couldn’t drag your eyes away from his fly. If you had, it wouldn’t have been such a surprise when he grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look up at him. 

“But _I don’t want that,”_ he hissed. “I don’t want your slut mouth. I want your _cunt.”_

Immediately you found yourself hauled back to your feet and spun towards the doorway of the room. 

“Grab it!” he barked, but didn’t indicate what you were to grab, exactly. 

You guessed the door frame, praying your guess was correct. Bent in half in front of him, you pushed your luck by also hiking your skirt up to your waist. He hadn’t demanded it, but hopefully this small act of willingness would please him.

From the noise of him sucking his teeth and the faint shush of a zipper finally being undone and trousers being pushed down, you guessed correctly. 

Beetlejuice stepped up behind you. He reached forward, digging through the ruins of your shirt and cupped your tits, pinching your nipples until they were peaks. Then he played more roughly with them, using his fingernails to mix pleasure and ache in you. You couldn’t help but moan, even as the feeling tipped more towards pain.

That sound from your lips made him press more tightly against you. The cool length of his cock lay against your pussy and ass; his tepid thighs against yours, his torso on your back. Something on his chest was hard and scratchy and you had no clue what that might be. You could spend no energy trying to puzzle that out. His lower body temperature made goose flesh erupt over you. 

“Little rabbit. Little slut,” he murmured. His mouth was on your shoulder, but his voice was near your ear. “Tell me you like this.”

“I like it. Beej, I like it!” you agreed in a moan. 

“You’re not afraid of me?” he asked. Now his cool tongue dragged down one side of your spine. 

You froze, not sure what to answer. 

“Hmmm?” His wordless query vibrated next to your ear.

“Beej, I …” Your throat was dry. You daren’t look over your shoulder at him. 

“Hmmm,” he said again, but the inflection was completely different. Harder. More threatening. “Little rabbits don’t have voices. Little sluts do. Tell me you’re afraid of me!”

At his raised voice, you obeyed. “Yes! Yes, Beetlejuice, I’m afraid of you!”

He snarled, an ugly sound, and you knew instantly that even though you’d done as asked, it was because you used his full name. He didn’t give you the chance to apologize or rectify your mistake, however, his response to it was to bite you again, hard, on your shoulder. You cried out in pain, and his hands left your tits to keep you from struggling away by encircling your throat. Then two more sets of hands grabbed your hips; you felt talons break skin there. 

You bucked against him, not willing to lose the fight against air even though it was happening. Beetlejuice opened his mouth, giving you a respite from that particular pain before doing it again, in a different place. You thrashed, but didn’t have the leverage to get away. That, and oxygen was becoming a rare commodity. 

Despite every instinct your body screamed at you, you relaxed. 

The second he felt that, Beetlejuice released you. His teeth were gone, his nails were gone. The hands around your throat loosened, and stroked your neck. 

You took in an ungodly amount of air. 

“Now tell me you want me to fuck you,” he purred to you. 

God, you did, and proclaimed it loudly, without additional prompting.

You couldn’t see his smile but you knew it was there as he stood up, dragged his fingers along your pussy from clit to entrance, shuffled a little to align himself correctly, and shoved his cock deep inside you. 

It was exquisite bliss, him filling you, made even sharper by the aching injuries he’d inflicted. You held tightly to the door frame as he pounded into you, with no consideration for the punishment your arms were going through. His hands were too tight on your hips, pulling you backward onto him as he thrust forward. You felt split. It felt heavenly. 

You arched your back and moaned. Drool fell from your open mouth to the floor, creating a little pool below you. You dropped your head because keeping it up was too much effort when pleasure was shutting down most of your system. Your tits swayed heavily and you’d have loved for him to reach around and grab them again, but Beetlejuice had a different idea. 

He’d filled the air with his own grunts of pleasure and half mutterings of “little rabbit slut” and “fucking take my cock”. His pace never slowed. The sound of his thighs slapping against yours was almost more obscene than the wet noise of your pussy around his cock.   
He never touched your tits, but one hand let go of your hip and shoved around the front of you, passed your thigh and belly, and pushed into the top of your pussy, landing directly on your clit. 

Electricity shot through you. Your back tensed so much you almost drew up parallel with him, but a low growl warned you to drop back to the position he wanted you in. Although euphoria from his fingers on your clit and his cock deep in your cunt was making it difficult to think properly, you obeyed. Just as you put your head back down, however, you came and squirted, drenching him and yourself with wet. 

_“Fuck!”_ Beetlejuice cried. 

The word was tinged with praise and delight, and your orgasm spurred him. He jackhammered into you, fast and hard and desperate, and while you continued to howl at the overwhelming pleasure that he hadn’t let you revel in, he snapped his hips against you and came too, dumping his load as deep as he could inside you. 

For an eternal second everything was still. Bliss still flowed in waves through you, until it too edged the line of too much, and you wiggled underneath him. 

Beetlejuice startled, a little, then took your hint. Gently, he pulled himself out of you. The gush of wet that followed made a much bigger mess on the floor than where you’d drooled. 

Carefully, you pushed yourself up the doorframe and stood up. You were stiff, and made sure not to twist too much because of the bite wounds you’d been given as you turned to him. 

In contrast to the forceful demon who’d demanded so much from you, Beetlejuice stood with one arm across his chest, grasping the opposite elbow. His cock still leaked thin come, which he ignored, and he licked his lips before asking, 

“You okay? Was that all right, baby?”

“What happened to ‘little rabbit’?” you replied.

He half shrugged. “It, uh, seemed right at the time, but now …”

You smiled. “I liked it.”

That perked him up. “You did? It wasn’t too much? Oh fuck, look what I did to your neck!”

You couldn’t see it, but you gingerly put a hand to the throbbing area he mentioned. It felt bruised. Beetlejuice skirted around you to get a better look, and moaned when he saw your back. 

“I really hurt you!” he exclaimed in dismay. “Why’d you let me do that, baby?! Why’d you let me leave marks like that!”

His fingers carefully probed the skin around your injuries. You couldn’t prevent yourself from flinching, which made him flinch too.

“Come on, you gotta get cleaned up,” he ordered, but it was much less angry and much more concerned this time. He led you by hand to the washroom, where he threw a flannel in the basin and twisted the taps over it. 

You turned to the mirror and tried to see over your shoulder. He was right; the bite marks were bruising deeply and there was some dried blood where his fangs had punctured skin. Beetlejuice fretted and lamented what he’d done, till you told him it was okay, you were fine, the whole thing was fine.

“Really, baby?” he whispered, as he washed your back. 

The hot water made you wince, but he didn’t stop with it until he was satisfied you were clean. Only then did he take another cloth and saturate it with cool water, to press against your angry skin.

He still seemed unconvinced you were okay with everything that had transpired. Finally, once everything was cleaned, including your pussy and his cock, once you were bandaged and had slipped into the softest tee shirt you owned and had taken him to bed, you held him and told him that you liked it all. No lie. 

Beetlejuice looked over his shoulder at you. He never implicitly stated he needed to be the little spoon after a session like that, but you knew. 

“Really, baby? I … don’t want to hurt you.”

“I like the marks, Beej,” you soothed him. “I like that it means I’m yours. I like that it’s just every now and then, not all the time. I like that you’re willing to do what I want, being a demon’s toy, and that you can play that fantasy with me. I trust you, Beej.”

Pinks shot through his hair and he nodded. You pressed a fond kiss to his temple, and as he shifted to a more comfortable position in your arms, you gave him another just below his ear too.

_fin._


End file.
